Huntress
by KSCrusaders
Summary: What is a ball without power, intrigue, danger, and sex? Inquisitor Lavellan plays the Great Game with grace and wit, wrapping the mighty Orlesian empire around her little finger. After the Inquisition's business is done, Solas asks for one last dance from his lover. Solas/F!Lavellan NSFW smut, minor spoilers for Solas romance and Halamshiral.


**HUNTRESS**

_By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)_

"Hunt well, _vhenan_."

The low, dangerous purr kept echoing through her mind. Clariel Lavellan snuck glances at Solas throughout the evening, and there was no mistake. Cassandra was impatient, Cullen exhausted, Josephine and Leliana and Vivienne in their natural elements. But Solas paid attention to no one but her, watching her run circles around nobles with hunger in his eyes. And when she all but forced the Game's best players to their knees, she spared a glance into the shadows and saw him catch his breath.

She could almost see the gears in his elaborate mind turning. What would he be doing in her shoes, she wondered? How would he have played the Game? But there was no time to ask; she couldn't extricate herself from the flood of people for nearly an hour. By the time Morrigan left her, it was well past midnight.

Even with the music playing, she could pick out Solas's footfalls anywhere. "I'm not surprised to find you out here," he said, joining her on the ballroom balcony. "Thoughts?"

Clariel shook her head. "I've barely had time to process it all. It's been exhausting, exhilarating." She paused, looking back to the other end of the ballroom where Celene and Gaspard stood, surrounded by a veritable army of fawning sycophants. She could just pick out the outline of Briala, leaning against a pillar, seething over the night's events. "One thing's for sure. I think this is only a temporary victory."

"There is much, much more trouble ahead," he agreed softly. "But for now, focus on what's in front of you."

That brought a smile to her face. "The handsome man who owes me a dance?"

He laughed and gave a short bow, extending his hand to her. "Then before the band stops playing, dance with me." Clariel's smile broadened as she took his hand.

Solas led the dance with slow, easy steps, gently guiding her in widening circles along the balcony. "What did you think of tonight?" she asked, giving his fingers a squeeze.

His smile turned wicked. "I have always admired the grace and focus with which you hunt prey," he admitted. "Watching you tonight was...mesmerizing." He let go of her briefly for a spin, then pulled her back in by the hand. Practiced fingers slowly and deliberately slid down her spine, coming to rest just beneath the laces of her elegant velvet dress.

"You like watching me play the Game." It wasn't a question. The arms around her tightened, pulling her close.

"And you, little huntress, like playing it," he whispered. He waited until they were tucked behind a pillar, then lightly dragged his teeth over the very tip of her ear.

Clariel shuddered in his arms. He was absolutely right; somewhere among the dizzying swirl of intrigue, etiquette, and danger, she'd started to enjoy the challenge of outwitting an empire. It was rather like beating Cullen at chess, or getting the better of Dorian in an impromptu game of wits. But the stakes were so much higher, and each move represented lives and actions that would ripple across the world. It was a dangerous, twisted, savage business-and part of her loved every minute of it.

"I think I played well for an amateur," she whispered back. "Despite you doing your best to distract me."

Solas laughed, soft and deep, the sound rippling through his chest and into hers. "Hardly. I was _encouraging_ you." He made no attempt to play innocent, with his wandering hands and teasing lips and blue eyes fierce with desire. The music slowed to a stop, and Solas leaned into a deep, graceful dip. When he pulled her up, his lips brushed her forehead, a kiss that promised much more than it offered.

She took a deep breath to compose herself. "When did you decide to save me this last dance?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he merely smiled, pressed his lips to her hand, and walked back into the ballroom. Clariel followed at a careful distance in the shadows, weaving a path that kept her clear of the more obnoxious nobles-and her fellow Inquisition. She watched him enter the vestibule, then calmly make his way toward the royal wing as though he owned the place. He paused just before disappearing through the door to glance back at her.

Clariel forced herself to wait a few minutes before following. She knew exactly where Solas was headed; no one in their right mind would enter Grand Duchess Florianne's suite so soon after her public disgrace. She made small talk with one of the emissaries from Orzammar, sampled a piece of pear tart, and picked up a few more secrets for Leliana.

Only to be accosted by some minor son of Duke Wherever just outside the royal wing, trying to compliment her without staring at her vallaslin and pointed ears.

Clariel looked him over, with his soft fingers and pastel mask and ridiculous curled shoes. Her patience finally broke; she dropped the sweet, enigmatic half-smile that Vivienne had taught her and almost snarled at the poor man. The sight of him falling over himself to back away from her made her smile, though she did find it in herself to feel bad for Josie, who would have to cover for her faux pas. For now, she had only one goal.

She eased the heavy gilded doors of the royal wing open and removed her heels. Her bare toes made no sound on the marble floors. The door to Florianne's private quarters was ajar, firelight spilling out into the abandoned hallway. She tiptoed into the room to find Solas leaning against the roaring fireplace, watching her with an amused smile.

"It is difficult to ambush one who anticipates you." Clariel was trying to think of a clever response when he strode across the room and shut the door behind her, pinning her against it with his hips. He silenced her startled yelp with a fierce kiss, all tongue and teeth, and strong hands yanked at the ribbons holding her dress in place.

"Shh," he whispered. "You wouldn't want anyone to hear us." His mouth followed the lines of her _vallaslin_ to her exposed collarbone, leaving little marks on her neck as he went. Clariel let her head fall back against the door, biting her lip to keep from crying out. She started undoing the buttons on his jacket, but one of his hands came up to trap hers against the door, while the other continued tearing at her lacing. Dimly, she wondered how the corset came off so easily in his hands; it had taken much longer for Josephine and Vivienne to get her into it.

Solas tossed the expensive garment aside, then set to work on the green velvet gown. Clariel watched, breath frozen in her throat, as he began loosening the silvery ribbons that snaked up her arms. He deliberately slowed his pace, steely blue eyes locked on hers while he took a loose end of ribbon between his teeth and teased it free.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside: servant's footfalls, rushed and light. Solas didn't even blink; he merely pressed a finger to her lips and continued undoing her dress, working his way up the other arm. "Solas," she whispered once the footsteps had disappeared. "Shouldn't we hurry? What if someone-"

"I don't intend to rush our dance, _vhenan_. And should anyone interrupt us, I will strip the flesh from their bones." His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. "Unless, of course, you care to stop me." He always gave her a graceful way out. Even in the Fade, where he so eclipsed her in power, he never failed to tell her she was dreaming and give her the opportunity to walk out of his mind.

It was an option she'd never taken. "No," she breathed. "Please don't stop."

Her lover's smile turned positively feral, but he kept himself in tight control. "Beautiful," he whispered, resting his lips against her neck. "_Mine_." His free hand lifted the hem of her skirt; the ghostly touch of his magic danced over bare thighs and she writhed against him, wanting to feel his skin against hers, his fingers inside her. But he refused to touch her directly apart from the hand still trapping both of hers. He teased her with magic, filled her with warm wanting, then went back to unlacing her dress.

"Solas," she pleaded. "Please. Don't tease me like this."

"I prefer to think of it as..._encouraging_ you." The last of the ribbons fell away; he could have slipped the remnants of the dress over her shoulders, but he didn't. Instead, he let go of her and stepped backward toward the bed, removing his jacket and shirt as he went. Clariel started to follow him, but he held up a hand. "Wait just a moment. Close your eyes."

Clariel let out her breath in an impatient hiss. But she obeyed, letting her eyes close and his voice wash over her.

"Do you remember the feeling, when you had the Duchess on her knees and the eyes of the court upon you?" he said slowly, his words tense with purpose. "The thrill of the hunt, the pounding in your blood, just you alone against all of them?"

"Yes," she whispered. The hairs on her neck and arms stood on end as she recalled that moment, the feeling of triumph, of sheer control over every living soul in that room. She'd had them all hanging on her every word, dancing as she willed.

"You are a delight in bed, _vhenan_." She heard his boots drop to the floor. "Gentle, generous, eager to learn and yield."

His voice dropped to a growl, so soft she had to strain to hear him. "But tonight, I want to see the woman who hypnotized an empire. You hide it so well, the shadow behind the smile. Show me what it is like to be your prey. Give me some of that _bite_."

The last word came out in a snarl, and Clariel's eyes flew open. Solas reclined on the bed in front of her, wearing nothing but his untied trousers, watching her with fire in his eyes. Slowly, every nerve on edge, she stepped out of the dress. She knelt briefly to pick up the fallen ribbons, watched his breath hitch and his lean muscles tense. Wearing nothing but a set of smallclothes in the same silver fabric, she walked over to the fireplace and laid the metal screen in front of it, reducing the room to a dim red twilight.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she approached the bed. Solas was the only man she'd ever been with, her guide and mentor. He was firm but gentle in bed, always had been until this evening. She sat down next to him but did not touch him, laying the silver ribbons on the bed. Carefully, with trembling fingers, she began to fashion one of them into a knot, a loose loop she could easily slip over his wrists or ankles. The familiar motion calmed her nerves, as long as she didn't think too hard about what she was trying to do.

But Solas wasn't going to make it that easy for her. The bed shifted slightly, and she felt his warmth press against her back. "You are...rather methodical."

She turned her face so he wouldn't see her smile; he almost sounded put out. Clariel finished one knot, picked up another ribbon, and started another. "This is how I hunt. I make tools, I prepare."

The words sounded silly to her, but his breathing quickened ever so slightly. "And then?"

Clariel grabbed both ribbons and rolled herself on top of him in one graceful motion, straddling his bare chest. Solas barely had time to gasp before she slipped the makeshift restraints over his hands, pulled the loops closed, and tied the ends around a carving at the top of the headboard. "And then," she whispered as she reached for the widest ribbon, "I wait for my prey to obligingly walk into the trap."

She sat back and waited to see if he would struggle. He didn't, not until she laid the last ribbon over his eyes and moved to blindfold him. "_Vhenan_-" he hissed, his whole body tensing.

"Shh," She let go of the ribbon and laid a gentle kiss on his lips. He tried to push her, to make the kiss his own, but she pulled away before he could. "Trust me, _hahren_."

The use of the honorific, here and now, made him shudder. She waited until his hands stopped straining at the bonds before wrapping the ribbon around his eyes and securing the knot. In truth, the blindfold was more for her than for him. She didn't know if she had the nerve to do this with those hungry blue eyes watching every move. The restraints were just an illusion; they both knew he could get out of this position. He could vaporize the ribbons, shatter the illusion into pieces, and turn the tables on her whenever he pleased.

But he didn't, and Clariel felt her confidence beginning to build. She ran her hands and lips along his skin, relishing the luxury of exploring his body, finding little sensitive spots that made him gasp and buck beneath her. Her fingers finally reached the waist of his undone pants; she hooked her fingers through the belt loops and pulled, listened to his startled hiss as cool air met his skin.

She gently pushed his legs apart and moved so she was kneeling between them, no longer touching him. He murmured disapprovingly at the loss of contact. "Clariel..."

One fingertip found his lips, the touch feather-light. "Tonight, it's 'Lady Inquisitor.' Or 'my lady,' if you prefer. You don't want to be discourteous for this dance, do you?"

Again, she felt herself blushing at how the words sounded. Again, she watched the effect they had on him with nervous fascination; his hands clenched into fists, hips arching upward toward her. Clariel pinned his thighs to the bed with her hands. She lowered her lips to his belly button, dragging her tongue down toward the tip of his cock.

The _sound_ he made when her mouth finally touched him-she let go of his legs and wrapped both hands firmly around his shaft, just to hear him gasp like that again. She didn't realize how worked up he was until she started licking him in earnest and he bucked into her mouth. She let go of him and sat up, resting her hands on his ankles.

"Do I need to tie the rest of you down too?"

His jaw clenched, then he shook his head slowly. "No."

"No...?" she prompted him.

He didn't say it immediately, and she knew he wouldn't. Her lover was too proud to give in that easily. She crawled back on top of him, pressing her hips against his, letting him feel how wet she was through the thin fabric of her smallclothes. "Say it, _hahren_," she whispered into his ear. His breathing was ragged, heart pounding against hers, but he still didn't speak. Clariel traced a path from the tip of his ear down to his throat with her tongue, punctuating it with feather-light kisses.

Then she bit him, hard enough to leave angry red marks which she soothed with her tongue and lips. Solas arched his back and moaned so loudly she was certain someone would come investigate, but she was past the point of caring now. Her world narrowed to her lover, the sounds he was making, the heady rush of his strength contained by her will. Clariel yanked the curtains of the four-poster shut as a precaution but quickly returned to his neck, alternating quick, savage nips with slower kisses.

"Just-let me _see_ you," he gasped between ragged breaths. "Let me-"

"Say it," she hissed; she pressed her nails into his back, grinding her clit against the tip of his cock. "Say it, and you can have me."

Clariel wanted to watch his careful control shatter, to see his hands spark and hear his voice broken with need. She slid down his body and placed her lips over his tip once more, careful to hold his hips down more tightly. She kept her eyes fixed on his face, watching little cracks form in his self-control with every slow stroke of her mouth. He was close, much too close, and she pulled back from him again when she felt him straining too hard against her grip.

"No-" he moaned. Green light slipped from his clenched hands. "Inquisitor..._my lady, _please."

Quick as lightning, Clariel pulled the blindfold free; it was the first time she'd ever seen him look so dazed, so unguarded. She cupped his face with her hands, pressing her lips gently to his. Solas groaned into her mouth, hungrily seeking her tongue with his. She let him take the kiss, then pulled away with a smile. "_Ma nuvenin_. All you had to do was ask."

Clariel took her time removing what remained of her clothes, basking in his devouring gaze. "You are a beautiful sight, Lady Inquisitor," he whispered reverentially.

"As are you, _hahren_." Then she was _finally_ naked, _finally_ moving with him inside her, listening to their breaths and moans in unison. Solas's eyes never left hers, adoring and craving in equal measure. Uncontrolled, unbidden, magic flowed from his fingertips and danced in the air between them, little eddies of energy that made her skin prickle and hair stand on end. She braced herself against his broad chest, watching him gasp for air with each thrust of their hips.

Clariel dropped her weight on him, chest to heaving chest, felt him turn his head and savagely sink his teeth into her shoulder. The swift, sharp surge of pain was too much-she was too far gone, burning up against him, spirit wound up in the sounds of his pleasure.

"Solas..._ma sa'lath_-" She came hard and fast, burying her face into his shoulder to muffle her cries. But she didn't stop, couldn't stop with her body still clenching around him, his voice begging her for more, _faster._ Then he suddenly went still and rigid, his head falling back in silent, breathless ecstasy.

Neither of them said anything for what felt hours, content to just lie there and listen to each other's breathing. Then Clariel felt him flex his arms; he easily freed himself from the ribbons and wrapped his arms around her, tenderly nuzzling her ear.

"That, _vhenan_, was exactly what I wanted," he purred.

Clariel laughed softly. "I think I'd like to do that again some time. Maybe a bit less rushed." She lifted her head just enough to look at him, tracing the sharp lines of his face with her fingers.

He smirked at her, catching her fingertips briefly with his lips. "I will have to keep that in mind."

A clock somewhere struck half past one. All of her limbs felt heavy and warm, but Clariel made herself sit up and roll off of him. She started trying to put her hair back to rights, then quickly gave it up as a lost cause and shook it all loose, sending little hairpins flying all over the bed and floor. Light brown curls poured down her back.

Solas sat up next to her, gently pulling apart the tangles in her hair. Purple marks were starting to form along his neck, livid against his pale skin. Clariel started looking for the pieces of her dress and suddenly swore under her breath.

"You burned the ribbons off, didn't you?" One glance at the ever-so-faint scorch mark on the headboard and the ashes beneath confirmed her suspicions. Solas merely grinned at her and shrugged.

"How exactly am I supposed to get this dress back on without them?" she demanded. "Also, you set fire to the bed."

Solas scoffed. "Hardly." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry so much. We will be presentable enough to make it to the gates." His eyes caught the bite mark where her shoulder met her neck; it was bruising spectacularly, and in some places his teeth had actually broken the skin. She felt the soothing touch of his healing magic, but closed her fingers over his.

"Leave it," she whispered with a small smile.

His eyes darkened, and if they weren't both so spent she was sure he would have taken her again, then and there. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and got to his feet. "We should at least get you a scarf and clean you up. Would you care to peruse our hostess' armoire, or shall I?"

* * *

><p>They cleaned up quickly and made their exit quietly, but people noticed. People always noticed. Clariel casually strolled to the carriages at the front gate, as though she'd never been missing from the ballroom at all. Solas walked beside her instead of behind her, and people noticed that too. She couldn't help but listen to their curious, scandalized whispers with a certain savage pleasure. Let them remember that the Lady Inquisitor couldn't care less what they thought of her lover.<p>

When they reached the rest of their delegation, Vivienne eyed Clariel's "borrowed" white scarf and loose hair disapprovingly, while Josephine looked from one elf to the other with mounting disbelief.

Solas couldn't help himself. "Inquisitor Lavellan was feeling a bit chilly. I believe it is my duty as her...elven serving man to attend to her comfort." He didn't even bother hiding his grin from Vivienne, who'd come up with the insulting cover for him in the first place.

Clariel tried to glare at him but couldn't manage it. He looked so immodestly pleased, like the cat who'd gotten the canary and blamed it on the mabari. Instead she found herself laughing, glad of the scarf that concealed the blush spreading up her neck.

Vivienne smiled disdainfully as only Vivienne could, and stepped into her carriage without a backward glance. But Clariel could've sworn she saw Josephine wink at her before ushering her and Solas into the next carriage.

"Since the man who introduced you to the court has so rudely abandoned you for the Empress..."

"I'm not all that torn up about it. Celene and Gaspard frankly deserve each other."

Josephine laughed, then her expression turned serious. "You should know that your little exit, however brief, will set tongues wagging for weeks."

Clariel gave her the sweetest, most innocent smile she could muster. "Isn't that how the Game is played?"

Her ambassador looked at her shrewdly, as though really seeing her for the first time. "I believe the Game will be very interesting with you as a player," she said with a slow smile. "My lady Inquisitor." She closed the carriage door on them and nodded to the driver. Solas slid the window shut with a snap, holding his arms out to her.

Clariel pulled off Florianne's scarf and curled up in his embrace, listening to the slow and steady beat of his heart. It mingled with the gentle sway of the carriage and rhythm of horse hooves. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a contented sigh.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Then sleep. I will join you shortly." The last thing she felt before sliding into sleep was Solas's hand gently stroking her hair.

He waited until he was sure she was asleep, looking down at her with sad, tender eyes. Gone was the huntress, hidden by the kind, loving spirit he knew so painfully well. "_Ma serannas, vhenan_," he murmured, his voice cracking over the words. "Your love will be a light I carry down the darkest paths." Then he too closed his eyes, seeking her in the Fade for another, gentler dance.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN:** I removed Solas's weird hat and gave Lavellan a dress. Because I will be pretty at the ball, damn it. Warm thanks to KelaSaar for beta reading. And so much thanks to BioWare, Patrick Weekes, and Gareth David-Lloyd for _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ and Solas.

**hahren:** elder, more generally a term of respect among the Dalish

**ma nuvenin:** as you wish

**ma sa'lath:** my one love

**ma serannas:** thank you

**vallaslin:** blood writing, the facial tattoos adopted by Dalish elves

**vhenan:** my heart (implied possessive)


End file.
